


A Common Nature

by eqyptiangold



Series: A Collection of Sterek One Shots [10]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Actor Derek Hale, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Actors, Alternate Universe - Human, Attempt at Humor, Fluff, Fluff and Smut, Humor, M/M, Smut, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, kind of not really
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-10-05
Updated: 2019-10-05
Packaged: 2020-11-23 23:43:35
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,095
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20898083
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/eqyptiangold/pseuds/eqyptiangold
Summary: As soon as Stiles walked into his boyfriend’s apartment, he dropped into Derek’s lap with enough force to make the older man grunt and curl up protectively. “Relax,” Stiles snickered, adjusting himself until he was propped up comfortably on Derek’s thick thigh. “I would never do anything to hurt them,” he promised with a smirk. Gently, Stiles patted Derek’s crotch through his sweatpants. “Are you going commando?” Stiles asked, his soft pat abruptly turning into a lascivious grope.Derek, in all his rugged manliness, yelped. “Fuck off,” he groaned, and pushed Stiles off his lap.“Sorry, dear,” Stiles said, grinning.





	A Common Nature

**Author's Note:**

> this is unedited sorry !! i'll probably edit it when i post the second part so if u wanna mark this for later and come back or jus read it now.

As soon as Stiles walked into his boyfriend’s apartment, he dropped into Derek’s lap with enough force to make the older man grunt and curl up protectively. “Relax,” Stiles snickered, adjusting himself until he was propped up comfortably on Derek’s thick thigh. “I would never do anything to hurt them,” he promised with a smirk. Gently, Stiles patted Derek’s crotch through his sweatpants. “Are you going commando?” Stiles asked, his soft pat abruptly turning into a lascivious grope. 

Derek, in all his rugged manliness, yelped. “Fuck off,” he groaned, and pushed Stiles off his lap. 

“Sorry, dear,” Stiles said, grinning. He absently tucked a stray lock of hair behind his ear, the dark strand having escaped his messy man bun. Noticing the small movement, Derek reached out to gently toy with the hair that nearly touched Stiles’ shoulders. 

“Are you sure you have to shave it?” he asked, pouting in a way that had no business looking that adorable on a two-hundred-and-some-pound man made up almost entirely of muscle. Stiles cooed softly and bopped his boyfriend’s nose. 

“It’s for cancer,” Stiles reminded, crawling back onto Derek and straddling him. “You just like yanking it when we fuck.” He nosed gently at the older man’s jaw and bit distractedly at his neck. 

“Don’t leave any visible marks,” Derek mumbled, even though they’d been dating long enough that Stiles knew better than to mark up his boyfriend. Ever since Derek had been featured in countless tabloids because of one ridiculously faint hickey, left behind after both Stiles and Derek had lost a bit of control in bed, Stiles had been meticulously careful. It had been the night of the  _ Lost Hunter _ movie premiere; apparently seeing Derek on the big screen, decked out in hours worth of special F/X werewolf makeup and CGI was a kink of Stiles’. 

“D’you plan on wearing short shorts anytime soon?” Stiles asked, sliding smoothly on his knees in front of Derek. 

“Fuck,” the actor groaned when Stiles tugged his pants and boxers down in one go. “No,” he managed, more focused on expertly freeing Stiles’ long tresses from the thin scrunchie holding them back. 

Eyes darkened suggestively, Stiles began sucking dark hickeys into the delightfully soft skin of Derek’s thighs. “ ‘M gonna suck you ‘til you cry,” he promised, pressing one finger against Derek’s taint until the werewolf was quivering. 

As always, Stiles fulfilled his promise. He lazily kept Derek on the edge until the older man’s cock was overstimulated and turning purple, drooling enough precome to rival the tears dripping from the corners of his eyes. Then, Stiles sucked his balls and, within a minute, Derek came in Stiles’ hair while his hands tugged at it. 

Wiping his mouth around a satisfied grin, Stiles crawled back onto the couch and rubbed his boyfriend’s impressive chest and shoulders while Derek slowly came down from his high. “Wan’ to come shower with me?” 

Slowly and sleepily, Derek ran his hands across Stiles’ ass and stared at him, gaze looking somewhat blank. At times, Derek would drift into a very slight sub-space, and all Stiles could do was cuddle him and wait for his brain and body to click back together. Slowly but surely, Derek’s eyes refocused until he was making proper eye contact with Stiles. 

“Hi baby,” Stiles murmured, dropping a series of fond kisses across his face. “Shower?” 

Derek let out a sudden snort, his eyes drawn to Stiles’ hair. “Yes,” he agreed, scooping up his boyfriend as he stood. “Are you sure you still want to donate it?” Stiles comfortably wrapped his legs around Derek’s waist and grinned. 

“Maybe it’s like, hydrating or something.” 

Derek raised his eyebrows, absently bending at the knees so Stiles could open the bathroom door. As they undressed, Derek grabbed his boyfriend and rubbed his hard-on through his soft, polka-dotted boxers. “I already have cum in my hair; I don’t need it in my boxers too,” Stiles protested, though his hips didn’t stop bucking into the touch. 

Fondly, Derek smacked his ass and stepped around the lanky man to turn on the shower. “Hurry up and I’ll rim you,” Derek offered. By the time he turned back around, Stiles was completely naked with his dick bobbing hopefully. Derek snickered and tugged Stiles into the shower, holding him close to ensure that he didn’t fall. 

  
  


An hour and three orgasms later, the pair staggered out of the bathroom with towels loosely wound around their waists and arms clinging onto one another. Derek’s thighs were more hickey than skin, and Stiles had even gone as far as to mark up the middle of his inner left thigh with a series of bruises in the shape of a heart. Derek, meanwhile, had taken full advantage of his boyfriend’s invisibility in the media to indulge himself. Since the couple were careful to keep any contact behind closed doors--even Derek’s most dedicated fans didn’t have the faintest clue that Stiles even  _ existed _ \--Derek could mark up Stiles to his heart’s content. 

“You have a serious kink for marking,” Stiles announced, giggling at his reflection in the vanity mirror. Bruises littered his neck and trailed down his chest. A thin line of purple led to his thighs. 

“You like it,” Derek retorted, propping his head on Stiles’ shoulder to look in the mirror together. He wrapped his muscled arms around Stiles’ thin waist; Stiles admired the contrast between his pale skin and Derek’s light tan. Before Stiles could retort, a shrill chime played from the bedside table. 

“Manager,” Stiles and Derek droned in sync, before Derek pressed a kiss to his boyfriend’s jaw and walked towards the blaring phone. Erica had two phones, one for business and one for her personal life--Derek had gone out of his way to assign the most irritating ringtone to her business number. 

He answered with a lazy hello, listening intently while Stiles flopped onto the bed. Absently, the young man hooked his fingers in Derek’s towel to tug him closer. Habitually, Derek carded a hand through Stiles’ damp hair as he spoke. “I’m busy,” the actor groaned, followed by rapidfire lecturing from Erica. “Only for half an hour,” he bargained, dropping onto the bed with his head by Stiles’ hip. “I’m not dressed.” Pause. “No, I will not send you ‘proof,’ Erica.” Smirking slightly, Stiles gently rubbed his hand over Derek’s bulge, earning a gentle smack. “Fine,” Derek groaned, suddenly kicking his towel off. 

He pulled himself back to his feet before Stiles could try for round three. “I’m getting dressed,” Derek said, his brusque tone hinting that he was interrupting Erica. “Talk to Stiles.” 

Stiles jumped in surprise when the phone suddenly hit his stomach, bouncing off his hickey-marked skin. He fumbled the smartphone, just barely managing to lift it to his ear without breaking the expensive device or accidentally hanging up. “Hi Erica!” he greeted cheerily. “Why are you making my boyfriend leave before we can cuddle?” 

_ “Sorry, cutie,”  _ Erica drawled, sounding vastly unimpressed.  _ “Derek has a date with a fresh young journalist. I’ll send a car. Tell him that they’re meeting over lunch and there’ll be photographers there. They’re making a whole spread on this interview. Oh, and try to slide a nice comment about the food into the interview. The restaurant’s sure as hell paying enough for it.”  _ Stiles giggled softly. Nobody could squeeze more money out of the brands that sponsored Derek than Erica. 

Derek, suddenly clad in a henley that made his arms look incredible and a pair of fashionable designer jeans, snatched the phone. “Can Stiles come for the car ride?” 

Stiles was close enough to hear Erica’s response:  _ “Fine,” _ she relented with a heavy sigh.  _ “Don’t let anyone see him, ‘kay? Remember, we’re keeping your relationship under wraps until the premiere.” _ Derek huffed at the reminder. Although he and Stiles didn’t mind the secretive aspect concerning their relationship, both were distinctly aware of exactly why they had to. If Stiles were a girl, any manager worth their shit would have leaped at the PR opportunities that relationships brought; however, for the sake of Derek’s career, he was better off residing in the closet until he’d firmly staked his place in stardom. The upcoming premiere of his newest Hollywood blockbuster,  _ Professional Ashes _ , was meant to do exactly that. 

“Because of the deeply rooted homophobia that still runs rampant in America despite our so-called evolution, yeah, yeah,” Stiles said, leaning into the phone. “I’ll stay out of sight. See ya later, Erica!” 

_ “Derek! Please, for the love of God, don’t make the interviewer cry this time!”  _ Erica screeched as the actor hung up. 

“It was one time,” he grunted, scowling. 

“Don’t worry, babe. All part of your charm,” Stiles soothed, patting his boyfriend’s head. 

“Shut up and get dressed,” Derek retorted, smacking Stiles’ ass. “You can wear my shirt, if you want.” 

“If you like seeing me in your clothes, just ask.” Stiles dodged the pillow when his boyfriend chucked it at him. Grinning, he scrambled to his feet in a mess of limbs and began digging through drawers for clothes. “Hey, Derek! If this interview takes an hour, do you think that’s enough of a refractory period?” he asked suggestively, pulling out a pair of hot pink panties. Derek let out a low growl, a habit he’d picked up from the filming of _ Lost Hunter _ . “I’ll be here, waiting for you,” Stiles cooed softly, going out of his way to slide the panties on in the most seductive way possible. 

“I hate you,” Derek groaned, those gorgeous eyes locked on Stiles’ silk and lace clad hips. 

“I’m the love of your life.” Stiles, because he was who he was, stumbled around in a mess of limbs as he pulled his jeans on. He squinted at the tight black denim as he fought to drag them up his thighs. “These might be Erica’s,” he admitted, jumping in an attempt to get the pants fully on. 

Derek stared at him silently for a moment. “Why are you still putting them on?” he asked, but it was too late. The jeans made it up to Stiles’ waist, accompanied by a victorious yelp from the young man. The waistband clung to him tightly and the pants squeezed his thighs. Derek sighed softly, a fond, exasperated sound, before he grabbed his comfiest t-shirt from its spot, draped over a chair, and tossed it at his boyfriend. 

“Laying your claim on me,” Stiles teased, sliding the oversized shirt on. It slid off his shoulder, revealing pale collarbones, and hung down to his upper thighs. “Love you.” 

“Love you too,” Derek said, grabbing his boyfriend around the waist. “Wanna see if we can convince the driver to find a makeout spot?” 

Stiles laughed, knocking his shoulder against Derek’s. “You have an interview,” he reminded. “C’mon, sourwolf.” Huffing out a snuffly sound in response to the  _ Lost Hunter _ inspired nickname, Derek pinched Stiles’ side. 

Still wrapped around each other, the couple slowly managed their way downstairs to meet the car out front. Stiles crawled into the expensive vehicle, limbs flailing, while Derek slid in smoothly. 

The partition between them and the driver was already up, and Stiles was quick to clamber as close to his boyfriend as he could manage. “Are we ever going to leave the honeymoon phase?” he wondered fondly. He lazily traced Derek’s jawline without thinking about it. 

“What, you’re already waiting for the sex to dry up?” Derek asked, voice wry. 

“Never,” Stiles gasped, voice sounding scandalized. “You’re secretly kinky as fuck and I’m creative as hell, so.” Snickering softly, Derek absently dug his finger into one of the hickeys on Stiles’ neck. 

“Then what’s the problem?” 

“Remember when we were violently lusting after each other and you slammed me into walls and threatened to kill me all the time?” Stiles reminded, a soft laugh escaping him at the memories. “We’ve changed.” 

In a flash, Derek had Stiles slammed down against the seat with one hand digging into the smaller man’s lean chest. He growled lowly into Stiles’ neck and wrapped his fingers around his waist, roughly murmuring threats that were indistinguishable against his snarly tone. “Fuck,” Stiles whispered, gnawing on his lip. “Now that I know you actually like me… that’s so fucking hot.” 

“Love you,” Derek corrected, biting Stiles’ ear. “ _ You’re _ so fucking hot.” 

Pleased, Stiles hummed and fondly wrapped his arms around his boyfriend’s neck. “Changed my mind,” he mumbled. “I like this more.” 

“Good,” Derek replied, burying his head into Stiles’ neck. The younger man shivered happily, gently tugging on the dark hair wrapped in his hands. For the rest of the car ride, they remained wrapped around one another, sharing fond kisses and soft words. 

When they arrived at their destination, as signalled by the prim knock on the partition, Derek groaned lowly into Stiles’ skin. “Don’t wanna go,” he mumbled, mouthing sleepily at the man’s heavily bruised neck. His hands were lazily exploring the soft skin of Stiles’ stomach and back, tracing his finger gently along the waistband of the pink panties that peeked out of his jeans. 

“C’mon, babe,” Stiles hummed softly, pulling them up and guiding Derek towards the door. “I’ll see you after.” 

Derek groaned, voice deepened with the post-shower sex sleepiness that had finally set in. Slowly, he opened the door and instinctually held Stiles’ hand as he exited the car. Running off the same instincts, Stiles followed him. Luckily, they were parked in the empty back parking lot outside the restaurant. “Love you,” Derek murmured, tugging Stiles into his chest and connecting their lips. The actor ran one hand through his boyfriend’s long hair while the other fingered the waistband of his panties. 

When they pulled apart, Stiles whispered a fond, “Love you, too,” against Derek’s mouth. “Ready to do your interview?” He pulled back to check Derek’s face, making absolutely sure that the actor was just post-sex sleepy and not in any form of sub-space. 

“Yeah,” Derek confirmed, smiling and holding eye contact. Intently, Stiles watched his face slowly harden into the semi-glare Derek faced cameras and fame with and confirmed that his gaze was clear. 

“Okay. I’ll tell Erica to send the car for me before it picks you up, yeah? We can start round three early.” 

-

Derek was flopped across Stiles, both half-asleep and wearing dopey smiles, when his phone blared with work-Erica’s ringtone. “She already interrupted the afterglow once,” Derek muttered, voice lit with with wry humour, though he was dead serious about ignoring Erica’s call for now. 

Unfortunately, as soon as the ringtone cut off, it started back up again. “She’s calling twice,” Stiles informed softly. 

Derek groaned. “Fine,” he huffed, slowly rolling over to grab his phone. Heaving one more heavy sigh, he answered with a grumpy, “Hullo.” 

_ “Derek!”  _ Erica snapped, her voice sounding uncharacteristically panicked in his ear.  _ “Why the  _ fuck  _ are there pictures of you kissing someone everywhere?”  _

Derek felt his heart screech to a stop. “What,” he asked, voice flat and harsh, like ice cold cement. Stiles quickly noticed the change in the atmosphere, and he crawled onto Derek’s hips with a worried look. He rubbed the actor’s chest and shoulders reassuringly. 

Thankfully, because Derek was quickly moving past the point of shock into silence and detachment, Stiles gently took the phone and put it on speaker.  _ “Someone got a picture of you kissing Stiles. It’s taken from behind Stiles; everyone thinks he’s a girl, Der. Congrats, you’ve got yourself a pretty girlfriend with…”  _ Erica’s voice was lilting unnaturally from stress, and the sound of her nails clattered loudly against her keyboard over the line.  _ “ ‘A great ass’… ‘cute panties’… ‘nice hair,’”  _ she read, assumingly from her screen. 

The conversation faded into silence soon after that. Derek’s blood rushed too loudly in his ears to even attempt speaking, and Stiles was massaging his shoulders even though his expression was oozing anxiety. 

“Fuck,” Stiles eventually said eloquently. 

_ “We have options,”  _ Erica offered, voice suddenly hardening with determination.  _ “You can play it off, ignore it, say the relationship is over or whatever. But that’s stupid risky and your image could take some serious damage. We can find a girl with hair similar to Stiles’ and you’ll have to pretend to date her for awhile. Or, you can come out with Stiles.”  _ Stiles was gnawing his lip worriedly, even as one hand was gently stroking Derek’s hair. Derek could just barely register the sensation behind his horrible, gut-wrenching panic. 

“What if I just dress up like a girl?” Stiles offered. 

Derek blinked. 

_ “What,”  _ Erica asked, voice flat. 

“I’ve been hanging out with drag queens since, like, sophomore year. Get me some makeup and the right clothes, and it could work.” Stiles talked quickly, and Derek soon realized that he was rambling through his worry. “My prepubescent looks--the barely noticeable adam’s apple, the small waist, the absolute lack of any muscle--it’s all finally gonna come in handy!” 

_ “Stiles,”  _ Erica said, her voice incredibly monotone.  _ “What’s the plan for the future? Der, I thought you wanted to come out after the premiere. What’re you gonna do if everyone thinks your boyfriend is your girlfriend?”  _

“Like hiring a beard is any better?” Stiles protested, squirming frustratedly on top of Derek. He was visibly trying to reign in his jealousy and general panic in the face of the disaster.

“I’m not pretending to date anyone,” Derek finally interrupted. No matter how much he cared about his career, he wasn’t going to put his relationship with Stiles under the strain of a fake girlfriend. 

“It can be a statement about heteronormativity and gender roles!” Stiles offered up, voice going slightly shrill. “It’s not lying as long as neither of us ever  _ say _ that I’m a girl. Just… let people assume it.” He sat up quickly, feet digging into Derek’s hips. 

Erica heaved out a loud sigh over the phone.  _ “Okay,”  _ she said, sounding heavily thoughtful and focused.  _ “I’m gonna call the rest of the PR team and see if this is actually a good idea. I’ll call you in a minute, Derek. Stay offline for now. Stiles… put all your socials on private.”  _ She huffed loudly before hanging up. 

Derek’s feet were numb. Blood rushed through his head like the sound of a crowded highway. Slowly, so fucking slowly, he swallowed the boulder in his throat and caught Stiles’ gaze. Even as his world fell to pieces around him, he could find familiar comfort in that pretty, amber gaze. 

“Fuck,” Derek muttered. 

“Yeah,” Stiles agreed. “ _ Fuck _ .” 

**Author's Note:**

> title from "people share a common nature but are trained in gender roles"  
(might change the title later so save this if you really want to come back to it)


End file.
